


A Handsbreadth, A Hairsbreadth

by Emiline



Category: The Bletchley Circle
Genre: F/F, Pining, Post-Season/Series 02
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-04
Updated: 2020-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:07:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23009701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emiline/pseuds/Emiline
Summary: Millie meets her eyes in the reflection. “I'm perfectly fine,” she lies, brightly and only half as brittle-sounding as she’d feared, and if her voice only comes out at half its usual volume Jean doesn’t seem to notice. “Now go sit, we’ve still got your lipstick to do.”A different time that Millie helps Jean get dressed up.
Relationships: Millie Harcourt/Jean McBrian
Comments: 6
Kudos: 26





	A Handsbreadth, A Hairsbreadth

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to tumblr (@emiline-northeto over there, feel free to pop by and say hello!). Lightly edited before posting here. This takes place between series two and The Bletchley Circle: San Francisco.

Millie rolls the pearls in her hands, warming them while Jean, with efficient, economical movement, slips her own arms through the sleeves of the blouse and begins doing the buttons up.

“You said Alice will meet us there at half past seven?” Jean asks, adjusting the folds of the fabric.

“Yes,” Millie confirms, mouth gone dry. She gives herself a mental shake and moves towards Jean. “Necklace.”

Jean turns, and Millie very pointedly doesn’t look at herself in the mirror as she lowers the necklace over Jean’s head. She fumbles once with the clasp, before securely it tightly. Her fingers brush Jean’s neck lightly, and she has the sudden urge to slide her hands over Jean’s shoulders, to kiss the spot on her neck just above the gleam of gold, to trail a line of kisses across—

“Are you feeling alright?” Jean’s voice derails that train of thought. “You’re looking very queer.”

Millie meets her eyes in the reflection. “I'm perfectly fine,” she lies, brightly and only half as brittle-sounding as she’d feared, and if her voice only comes out at half its usual volume Jean doesn’t seem to notice. “Now go sit, we’ve still got your lipstick to do.”

Jean gives her a look that suggests she doesn’t believe her but isn’t going to pry, and Millie turns away to give herself a moment as she rummages through a bag. She exhales as silently as she can. 

“Here we are,” she continues, in something approximating her normal tone. Jean’s capacity for stillness can be somewhat unnerving but at least she’s no longer looking at Millie as though she’s a puzzle to be solved. 

Millie moves the stick over Jean’s lips, and her hand doesn’t shake even a little. Jean makes a few adjustments with the handkerchief, inspects herself with a critical eye. 

“That should do,” she says briskly, with a quick nod of the head.

“More than do,” Millie replies before she’s quite realized what she’s said. “The men will be all over themselves asking you to dance,” she adds.

Jean snorts. “As if I cared for such things.”

“Don’t you?” Millie asks with studied lightness.

“Surely you know that I don’t.”

She’s never dared ask, actually, and Jean has always kept her private life, well, private. Extremely so.

But there’s only so many revelations a woman can handle in one day, so she tucks that knowledge away in her heart to ponder over later, when she is alone. “We’d best go now, if we don’t want to be late.”

“Lead on.”


End file.
